


If that's all

by accrues



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everybody Lives, Gen, Natasha goes cottagecore, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-28 23:46:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30147450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accrues/pseuds/accrues
Summary: Natasha retired to northern Virginia after Endgame. She and Bucky can't sleep.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Natasha Romanov
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	If that's all

**Author's Note:**

> It makes me sad that Bucky doesn't have someone with shared life experience to talk to, and Natasha deserved better, so: early morning coffee pals.
> 
> No major spoilers for FaTWS.

_Where did all the birds go? Where did all the bees? Where did the motes and the sand and the stardust – fleeting – disappear to?_

Natasha stabs her pencil down on the page so hard that the nib breaks, the paper so badly dented that it carries on through at least twenty other sheets. Fuck. 

Resurfacing from her musings, she forces her muscles to relax back against the dining-room chair she’s sitting in. Outside the hushed noise of motor traffic on the distant highway is background to the never-ending chirping of birdsong. The morning sun is laying quiet sheets of light across her kitchen floor, mottling the refrigerator a bright silver against the gunmetal grey.

Shit, she’s been awake since three am. She’d meant to go back to sleep at some point, but the hours had ticked by- she probably dissociated somewhere in there, staring at that divot on the wall she can’t seem to look away from.

A tall glass of water helps, and twenty minutes later Natasha’s dressed in soft and loose exercise gear – sweatpants with tight cuffs that secure around her ankles for inverted poses, and an old SI tee she has tucked into the waistband – and is settled on her front porch in lotus pose, starting to move her way through her morning mixed yoga and pilates routine. Her phone buzzes- Bucky.

 _How did you sleep?_ And then there’s the poop emoji – she really wishes she hadn’t taught him that one – and a laughing face.

 _Just kidding_ , the next text reads. _Coffee?_

It’s six am, but of course he’s already been on the road long enough to get close and pick up coffee.

 _ETA?_ She settles on her strawberries-and-cream colored yoga mat, tucking her chin onto her knees and wrapping her free arm around her legs

The three little dots pop up while Bucky navigates the keypad, like a middle-aged woman pecking at each key carefully, then _Five minutes._

Natasha smiles down at the phone, then sets it aside as she moves into some stretches. She’s only halfway through her warmup when his second-hand (but beautifully maintained) black and chrome Harley pulls up the driveway. He’s quiet as he methodically moves around the bike, pulling the coffee tray from a stabilised bag on the back and checking everything is stable before making his way over to her. 

The white-orange-pink coffee cups are bright against all the black of his bike leathers, promising delicious caffeine. She rolls out of her shoulder-stand and easily settles back into an extended lotus. 

‘Hi Nat,’ he says with that half smile he probably murdered ladies with in the thirties – metaphorically, before he got with the literal murder – and she grins back.

‘Hey trouble.’

‘That’s my middle name,’ he replies easily, and passes her one of the coffees. There are scribbles made by the staff at Dunkin Donuts scrawled all over the side of his cup to denote his against hers – Natasha’s is black with a pump of sugar-free caramel, and Bucky’s is full-fat milk with whip and every sugary additive under the sun. Sometimes she hates his metabolism – the Red Room could at least have given her that. 

Sugar-free syrups almost make up for it, these days. Almost.

He sits down next to her, creaking a little in the bike leathers, and stares out into the trees. They sit in the quiet, sipping their drinks and breathing in the morning air. There isn’t anything that needs to be said, after all. The air smells like wet pine and frost, the promise of snow. It’s already starting to get icy cold, but it probably won’t snow for another couple weeks yet.

About ten minutes later Natasha breaks the silence in one easy move, stretching her legs in front of her and curling her toes in and out while she speaks. ‘Nightmare?’

Bucky tips his coffee cup at her, a movement caught in her peripheral. 

‘Yeah,’ she sighs. They lapse into silence again, and she finishes her coffee.

‘This is nice, though,’ Bucky says into the quiet. ‘The trees.’

‘I like it,’ she agrees. ‘Reminds me of Russia in the summer.’

‘Beautiful.’

Natasha glances over at him but there’s nothing written on his face. He’s just staring out, watching the tops of the trees move and the occasional scampering of squirrels. 

‘Thanks for the coffee.’ Bucky does look back at her then, a quick movement, before he turns back to the scene.

‘Sure.’ He tips his own coffee back, draining the contents, and then he’s on his feet. ‘See ya, Nat.’

Natasha waves one hand languidly, and he heads back to his bike. Five minutes of trees swaying and squirrels hunting for food later, and he’s completely gone.

‘Well,’ she says back to the empty house. ‘What are we going to do today?’


End file.
